


Demon Love Songs in His Dreams

by lizdarcy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Coma, M/M, Pack Dynamics, The Alpha Pack, dream-walking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:19:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizdarcy/pseuds/lizdarcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I believe the Alphas intended to damage Stiles’ central nervous system, and cause a disconnect from his brain to the rest of his body.”</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>"What does that mean?”</i></p>
<p>  <i>“Stiles seems to be stuck inside his head.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Demon Love Songs in His Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Not entirely sure what this is...
> 
> Title and lyrics from White Demon Love Songs by The Killers
> 
> There may be some Supernatural Influences in here. xD

_Let's not forget about the fear  
Black invitation to this place that cannot change_

It wasn’t like floating when he woke up. No, it was like being torn in half, being pulled out of the water he was drowning in only to find himself enveloped in flame. The roar in his ears was so loud, he couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He kept gasping for air, but it wouldn’t come. The world spun around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he was about to black out, but he couldn’t even find that peace. It was all fire, scorching a path down his throat, through his spine, as if claws were trying to rip it out. 

“Stiles!”

He jerked, his entire body cringing at the movement. The voice pulsed all around him, but he couldn’t hear which direction it came from. _Here! I’m over here! Please!_ If he could just open his eyes, just get some air in his lungs, he could figure out where he was. He could get help. 

The fire kept burning around him, in him, and his lungs wheezed desperately for air that he couldn’t get. _Help me, please..._

~~~

The next time he woke, he was looking up at the sky. He inhaled, and gasped as the cool air swam inside, clearing away the fire and ash. He had to figure out where he was, what had happened. The last he could remember was setting a trap for the Alphas… sitting in the woods, maybe? Then there was fire, fire everywhere… The memories were blurry, fleeting, like a dream slipping out of his grasp. His head began to pound and he groaned, sitting up. 

He was in a field. A breeze rolled gently over golden rod and ragweed, wildflowers swayed peacefully. He stood up, and brushed off his pants. He had to find the pack, find out what had happened. Something didn’t feel right, but it was just like his memories, slipping away every time he got close. 

“Come on, Stiles. Shake it off, man. Think, Stiles, _think_.” 

Nothing looked familiar; he’d never come here before, not with the pack, not on any of his runs. Still, he had to be somewhere right? Maybe if he called them, they could get Danny to track his cell phone. His cell phone! Jesus, his brain had really gotten scrambled. He pulled his phone out, and frowned. Dead. Of course, his cell-phone was dead. 

Guess it was time to start walking. 

To his left all he could see was more fields. Where was this? Idaho? There were no hills, just miles and miles of flatness. On the right was a forest, dark and dense. He couldn’t see anything beyond the tree line. He turned around to see what was behind him. 

Holy shit. 

Everything was scorched. He stumbled, and fell scrambling away from the blackened land. Stumps still smoked, acrid black floating up into the air until the wind snatched it away. His nose suddenly registered the scent of burnt, well, everything. Jesus, what had happened? It wasn’t even forest fire season, he didn’t think, anyways… How long had he been out? Was this Derek’s land? How could he have let this happen to his territory? 

Stiles began to walk forward, ash puffing up with every foot he laid down. Something in his chest, a feeling, kept tugging him forward, as if all the answers were just another step away. 

Suddenly, the wind picked up and ashes and dust were flown everywhere. 

“Stiles!” 

“Derek! Scott?!” He tried to push on, but the gust pushed him backwards, ashes in his eyes and mouth. 

“Stiles…” 

The voice was behind him now, in the forest. He turned and ran towards the woods, keeping his head ducked into his sleeve. The wind pushed at his back, urging him to run faster and faster. The trees loomed ahead of him, far from a welcoming sight. Bad things always seemed to happen in the woods. 

The instant he reached the tree line, the gust stopped. He turned around, and smoke still swirled up from burnt stumps, lazy and sluggish. What the hell was going on? 

~~~

“I’ve never seen anything like this before. There is some serious magic at work here.” Deaton frowned, and set the pen light down on the table next to where Stiles lay on his stomach. His entire torso was wrapped in gauze and bandages, hiding the deep gash from the top of his neck down his spine, held together with dozens of stark black stitches. The sight of them was jarring against the ghost-white skin. 

Scott was pale, his clawed fingers clenching in and out as he paced the operating room. Derek sat next to the table, with one of Stiles’ hands in his. The only outward sign of stress was the small wrinkle in his forehead. They couldn’t call the sheriff until they knew the extent of the damage. It seemed like the gash could be the least of their issues. 

“All his vital signs are relatively normal, except for his heart rate. You can hear for yourself the way it keeps picking up and then slowing back down. As if he were physically active.” 

“He’s dreaming?” Scott asked. 

“It would seem so. Although, I’m afraid it might be a bit deeper than that.” Deaton sat down at his desk chair, staring at Stiles’ unconscious body. When he looked over, Derek’s eyes latched onto his, looking for answers to so many unasked questions. He sighed. 

“Scott, you said when the Alpha attacked him, the gash down his spine was deliberate?” 

Scott nodded, and his eyes darted over to his best friend lying on the table like a practice cadaver, ready to be cut into and analyzed. He felt sick. 

“I believe the Alphas intended to damage Stiles’ central nervous system, and cause a disconnect from his brain to the rest of his body.” 

Derek eyes stayed locked on Deaton the entire time, though his thumb swept in soothing circles over the back of Stiles’ hand. “What does that mean?” 

“Stiles seems to be stuck inside his head.” 

~~~

He couldn’t remember how long he had been walking. The trees were so dense he couldn’t see the sun through them, or whether it had set yet. It felt like hours, but he wasn’t tired. The forest was eerily quiet. No birds or crickets sang out through the dark. The trees swallowed all the noise and glared down at Stiles as he walked through. He figured he’d hit a road eventually, but it seemed the deeper he got into the forest, the darker and denser the trees were. The back of his neck itched, and he scratched at it, idly. 

“Come on, Stiles. You were a boy scout! Moss only grows on the north side of the tree, right?” He looked around. “Yeah, so there’s no moss on these trees. Perfect.” He rubbed his hands together and blew on them, bouncing on his toes. The chill was starting to get to him. At least he had on a jacket. He glanced down at his arms. Weird, he could swear he didn’t have one on before… Huh. 

“Maybe, if I just hunker down for a bit, nap a little, things will go back to normal. Instead of this freaking Twilight Zone crap.” He talked because he needed to hear _something_. The silence was deafening, and the longer he walked, the more it felt like he was going in circles. 

“Okay, pick a tree, any tree.” A big oak stood in front of him with a couple branches low enough for him to reach. “Alright, contestant three it is. Let’s Katniss this bitch” he muttered, grabbing the branching and jumping up. 

The instant he put weight on his arms, he back screamed with pain, a shot of lightening straight down his spine. He crumpled to the ground and whimpered. 

“Shit.” 

~~~

Derek jumped to attention the instant the whine slipped past Stiles’ lips. 

“Stiles? Come on, can you hear me? What’s happening to him?” Derek demanded Deaton. 

“I don’t know. His fever is rising, and his heart rate is accelerating rapidly. Perhaps his morphine is wearing off? He should have had another two hours before that happened, but—“ 

“Give him more!” 

“He can’t. He could overdose if he has too much,” Scott interrupted. 

“The last dose was already more than I was comfortable giving. As soon as I’m sure it’s out of his system, I’ll give him more. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here. We need to tread carefully.” 

“That’s not good enough!” 

Both Scott and Deaton went silent with Derek’s outburst. He swallowed and took a breath. “There’s got to be something.” 

Deaton’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. 

“You know something,” Derek growled. 

“There is something we can try, but it’s dangerous.” 

~~~

Stiles huddled close to the base of the tree, shivers wracking his body. The wind whispered around him, hissing and slithering through the roots and undergrowth. Over and over, his name whistling through the leaves, and through his mind, sending chills down his throbbing spine. 

This had to be magic, some sort of dream spell he couldn’t wake up from. 

“…Stiless…Ssstiless…” 

He closed his eyes against the fear. If it was just a dream, then they couldn’t hurt him. Only, it wasn’t just a dream, if he was right. It was a magic dream, and that changed things. 

he chill was inside him, now, freezing his bones and his heart and his mind. If he died in this dream, would he wake up? _Find me, Scott. Derek. Someone, please, find me._

~~~

“I’ll do it.” Scott swallowed, hovering over Stiles, helplessly. Deaton shook his head. 

“You don’t have a solid connection to a pack. It’s true that Stiles and Ms. Argent keep you from being an omega, and you did agree to join the Hale pack, the mental connection between you and the other wolves isn’t strong enough to tie you down here,” Deaton explained as he crushed some sort of root in a bowl. 

“It has to be me then,” Derek murmured. 

“Yes. Your pack will tether your mind in this reality, even as it is experiencing another. You won’t be as easily lost.” 

Derek nodded and watched as Deaton dropped the mix of herbs into a mug. He stirred it and sniffed, before rummaging around in a cabinet, coming back with a Ziplock bag of quarter-sized crystals. He plucked one out and considered a moment before humming, “I think so, yes,” and plopped it into the tea. 

“What was that?” Derek asked suspiciously. Deaton raised and eyebrow. 

“Crystallized honey. If I remember, you take your tea sweeter?” 

Derek harrumphed. 

“Remember, before you go anywhere in Stiles’ dream, you must mentally locate your pack. That tether is critical. Without it, we could lose you both.” 

Derek nodded, and looked at Scott. He didn’t voice the question, but by the way Scott’s jaw tightened and his eyes grew steely with resolve, he knew the beta understood. Derek would save Scott’s best friend, and Scott would protect Derek’s pack. 

“Would it be easier if the pack was here? All in one place?” Scott asked just as Derek was about to drink from the mug. Deaton nodded. 

“They’re in the woods out back,” Derek muttered. “Guys, c’mon in.” 

With that, he raised the glass to Stiles’ unmoving form, and knocked it back. 

~~~

The voices on the wind kept calling to him, calling him deeper and deeper into the woods, but he couldn’t move. A cold sweat had broken out over his body, and his body was too weak to move. He tried to sleep, tried to ignore the strange ephemeral voices, but they never went away. If he didn’t get up, didn’t move and find shelter, he would die here. 

A hoarse groan ripped free from his throat as he lifted himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the tree trunk. 

“C’mon, c’mon.” He staggered to the next tree, resting a hand against it to balance himself, and pushed off at the one beyond it. 

_Find me. Save me._

~~~

Nothing happened. Derek looked up at Deaton and Scott, waiting for some sort of drop into dreamland, or something. Deaton smiled and pointed behind him. 

He looked over his shoulder and— 

The field seemed to go on forever. He turned back, but the vet’s office had disappeared, replaced with flowers. They bowed easily, swaying together as the breeze rippled through them. Okay, here goes. 

He plucked at the ties to his betas in his mind, and felt Erica’s shiver of discomfort, Isaac’s worry and Boyd’s calmness, even the faintest hint of Scott’s fear. They hadn’t used their bonds like this before, and it could be uncomfortable feeling someone tug your mind. They’d work more on it when he got back, he silently promised them. 

What surprised him most though was how strong a pull he felt towards Stiles. He knew it was Stiles, felt the cold urgency of the need for _pack_ that wasn’t just in his mind, but yanking at his chest. He shifted and ran with the wind, cries of _find me, find me_ rippling through his fur. 

~~~

His name was getting louder, less like a voice on the wind, and more like taunts, herding him closer and closer, right where they wanted him. His breath huffed out in white puffs. 

“Stiles, just a little closer now,” a voice breathed in his ear. “We’ll keep you safe. We’ll keep you forever.” The words dissipated with a manic giggle. 

He turned frantically, trying to figure out where they came from but his couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. Mist swirled around his ankles, fogging up the trees and obscuring everything. The forest turned into jagged shadows and vague hints at nightmares waiting to happen. 

“Come now, Stiles. We’ll take you home.” This voice he knew. “We’ll bring you to a place where there’s warmth.” The deep timbre was soothing is the most dreadful way. 

“Deucalion.” The word was hardly more than a gasp as his body fought off wracking shivers. Hands rubbed down his bare arms, the jacket he had been wearing gone. He couldn’t help but press back into the heat of the body behind him. 

“It’s bright where we’ll take you. You’ll never feel coldness again. Never feel fear or anger… the icy bite of jealousy,” the Alpha crooned in his ear. Wolves began to slink out of the fog and circle him, their red eyes at odds with Deucalion’s soft promises. 

“…Stiles…” 

His name was so faint he could barely hear it. Deucalion’s arms wrapped down around his stomach, gently pulling him backwards, away from the wolves growling at him, and closer to the heat. 

“Come on now, Stiles. See how good it feels? To just let go, let me take charge? I’ll protect you. We’ll keep you safe.” _We’ll keep you forever_

“Stiles!” 

he voice was closer, louder. Stiles stiffened and tried to pull away but the heat was intoxicating. A finger ran down his neck and spine, pain flaring in its wake. 

“Listen to me, Stiles. Everything you want, you could have it here. Power, influence! You could build entire cities, nations! And they’d all bow down to you!” Deucalion’s voice began to sound desperate. Angry. “Don’t you understand, Stiles? The gift we’ve given you?” 

“…Don’t… want it…” 

“Stiles get down!” 

Claws dug into his spine, yanking him back, as Deucalion’s other hand came to rest at his throat, claws pressing in. Stiles screamed as the pain tore through him. 

“Not so fast, Derek.” Derek stopped just outside the ring of wolves, who had all turned to growl and bare their teeth at him. He didn’t even glance in their direction, just kept his eyes locked on Stiles’. 

~~~

“What’s happening!?” Scott and Deaton held down Stiles’ shoulders, fighting to keep Stiles still as his body arched and flailed, his veins distended and muscles seizing. Isaac leeched pain from Stiles’ spine, his face white and tense, but it barely seemed to make a difference. Whatever was happening had Stiles in agonizing pain. 

Boyd was holding Erica back from Derek, all three betas fighting the urge to go to him, wrench him free from the horror they felt come across the bond. 

“They’re fighting. Hold him tight, Scott. You have to believe they can win this. Let Stiles feel your belief.” 

~~~

“Stiles, listen to me. You can control this. It’s your mind. Whatever you see, whatever has you? It’s you controlling it.” 

Stiles screamed as Deucalion’s claw dug even deeper into his back, wrapping around his spinal cord, and tugging. 

“Focus, Stiles! Look at me! Please, Stiles. Breathe. You control this.” 

He fought against the agony ripping through him, tried to hear past Deucalion growling into his ear. 

“Listen to me, listen to my heart beat.” 

How? How could he do that? He was just a human? He didn’t have that kind of power, that command over his senses. Something began to tug at his chest, something he wanted to follow, but Deucalion held him in place. 

“C’mon, Stiles, please. Feel it. You’re pack. You belong with me, with Scott, in Beacon Hills. Where your dad is. None of this is real. You have to focus on me.” 

Stiles felt the tug again, and warmth began to trickle from his chest outwards. It pulsed through him rhythmically, like a heart beat. 

Suddenly the wolves stopped growling, and began to disappear into the mist, evaporating like apparitions. Maybe that’s what they were? Deucalion’s voice began to fade away, and suddenly Stiles sank to the ground, free from his grasp. He gasped in gulp after gulp of air, reaching out for Derek to help him stand. 

“F-fucking Twilight Z-zone shit,” he shivered out as Derek dropped down beside him, and gathered him closer. 

“You’re safe now, alright? I’m with you. You’re safe. I’m here.” 


End file.
